


wherever you are (whenever you are)

by lesbianxshuri



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: 1x12, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Happy Ending, Last Refuge, Spoilers, angsty, but cutesy too, but i think that it was a missed opportinuty, cause i love me some rip x sara, cuz I would love to have seen more about her, except instead of the pilgrim kidnapping jax's father, for now, i love jax's father, listen, listen to me with your listening ears, pre time canary, she kidnaps a younger miranda, she's an awesome character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9848906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianxshuri/pseuds/lesbianxshuri
Summary: Rip is pretty sure he stops breathing the minute Miranda appears on the screen. The smug smirk plastered on the Pilgrim’s face makes it worst. He ignores the confused looks the rest of his crew send his way and focuses on his wife’s face. His formerly dead wife.1x12 Canon Divergence. The Pilgrim took Miranda hostage instead of Jax's father





	

**Author's Note:**

> I finally sat and wrote this down and I'm pretty proud about it. I like how it came together and I'm satisfied - for once. Hope you'll like it :) 
> 
> I don't own the right to DC's Legends of Tomorrow - unfortunately.

Rip is pretty sure he stops breathing the minute Miranda appears on the screen. The smug smirk plastered on the Pilgrim’s face makes it worst. He ignores the confused looks the rest of his crew send his way and focuses on his wife’s face. His _formerly_ dead wife. Miranda stares back, her jaw clenched – whether it’s in pain or irritation, Rip doesn’t know – and her expression blank. And even though he knows that she isn’t _technically_ ‘his’ Miranda, his heart clenches at the sight of her and the corner twists upward into half a smile. 

The recording comes to an end and Rip already has an half-formed plan in his mind. It might not be the best and fool-proved he has ever think ever, but at least he would manage to save his crew’s younger selves, as well as Miranda. At least, for now. 

 

* * *

 

They’re back on the _Waverider_ and Rip is hidden in his study, pretending to be researching for their future mission, while the others spend some time with their loved ones. Well, he isn’t really pretending but he has using this excuse to avoid Miranda. Which, probably, isn’t the smartest thing to do. Their half-assed plan had, against all odds, gone well. Much of its success had had to do with Miranda’s refusal to wait for a rescue party to save her. The rest had been a team effort, which is, in Rip’s opinion, a step in the right direction.

Seeing Miranda is one thing. Facing is another. While he feels remorse at the idea of letting the woman to fend for yourself in an unfamiliar environment and surrounded by strangers, he can’t find the strength to face her. Rip fears that if he were to spend some time with Miranda, he wouldn’t be able to let her go. Which he knows will be inevitable, in the end. Letting out a trembling breath, Rip shakes himself out of his depressing thoughts and makes his way to the holotable. 

“Gideon, pinpoint the dates from when our guests have been taken,” he calls, leaning on it, “Set the course for London, 2160, first.”

“ _Right away, Captain,”_

“Eager to get rid me?”

Restraining himself from flinching at the sudden intervention, Rip pushes himself from the table and slowly turns around, his fists clenching at his side as his gaze meets Miranda’s amused green eyes. She looks like she had been taken out from her – their – house, which had been probably the case : she’s wearing a pale blue sweater with her usual dark jeans and ankle boots while her dark, brown hair is slung over a shoulder, her fringe barely covering her eyes. She looks _alive_ – _is_ alive – and Rip can’t help but reach out a hand to her, as if to touch her, to make sure that she isn’t an illusion. When realizing what he was doing, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and clears his throat.

“It’s not that, I just-”

“Need to restore the timeline to avoid any time aberrations,” Miranda finishes, chuckling as she slowly walks to him, “I understand. Which is why you’re going to give me one of those fancies pills hidden in your pocket. 

Rip gaps at her for a second, finding himself impossible to gather his thoughts under her expectant stare. Closing his mouth, he clears his throat a second time and plasters a smile on his face.

“Right,” he mutters as he turns back to the holotable, feeling the heat of Miranda’s stare on the back of his head.

From the corner of his eye, Rip can see her wandering around, her curious gaze taking as much as it can before it falls back on him. Again, he pushes down the urge down to reach to her and never let her go. Miranda sighs.

“I know you’re not him,” she says. 

 _That_ makes him look up.

“ ‘ _Him’_?” Rip repeats, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

“ _My_ Rip,” Miranda answers as if it was obvious, before rolling her eyes and adding,” Well, at least Rip Hunter from 2160. _That_ Rip is supposed to be on a mission in 19th France. He doesn’t travel with a crew, either. He seems to think that his A.I is the only teammate he needs.” 

“ _I_ _assure you, Captain Coburn,_ ” Gideon jumps in, almost sounding offended, “ _I’m perfectly capable of looking over Captain Hunter by myself.”_

“You make me sound like a bloody toddler,” Rip grumbles, frowning disapprovingly.

 “I don’t doubt any of your abilities, Gideon,” Miranda laughs, looking up, “And Miranda will suffice. I’m not a Time Master.

_“Of course.”_

Rip snorts while Melinda gives a fond eye roll. He uses her distraction to watch her and wonders, not for the first time, if she misses having Gary looking out for her. As if feeling his stare on her, Miranda turns back to him, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m glad to see you, though, for some strange reason. It’s good to know you’re alright,” she admits, putting a hand on his arm.

Rip almost comes away apart at the touch. For a second, he’s afraid that his heart might beat out of his chest, then he realizes the irrationality of this thought. For another second, he dreads Gideon may remark on his current state, which is more prompt to happen. He chooses to ignore the blood pumping in his ears and takes a step away from her, swallowing the guilt as her hand falls back to her side. Rips vaguely recognize Lisa Snart’s laugh, coming down from the hallway and can’t help but feel annoyed by it.

Miranda clears her throat, trying to diffuse the tension surrounding them, and leans back onto the holotable while keeping a gap between the two of them. Rip is torn between relief and longing.

“Speaking of your crew, you have some particular personalities among your ranks,” Miranda remarks in a light tone, an elegant eyebrow raised in interest. 

“What do you mean?” Rip tilts his head to the side, feigning confusion.

“Hum,” Miranda narrows her eyes at him, copying his head tilt in amusement and leans in, “Sara Lance? Mick Rory? Ray Palmer? Shall I go on?”

Rip can’t help but let out a chuckle at the lightness and familiarity of the conversation. He remembers about days spent in beds discussing about 21st century heroes discussing that very notion of heroism. He remembers frowning at a younger trainee Miranda Coburn’s weird obsession with the two rogues and her admiration for the Lance sisters. He remembers having an heated argument – an entertaining debate with two passionate parties, according to their professor – about the impact that Dr Palmer’s tech had had on their current society.

Rip turns to her, a half-smile on his face, and notices her shoulders drop in relief at his slight improvement of mood. He gives her a indifferent shrug, smirking when Miranda snorts and reaches to shove him. This time, Rip doesn’t move away from her. This time, he lets himself enjoy her proximity. This time, he lets himself forget. This time, Miranda is the first one to look away, her expression slowly sobering and a frown appearing on her face.

“Why do you have that _particular_ crew?” she asks in a quiet, knowing voice, “Did something happen?”

And just like that, Rip remembers why he had been hiding in his study since they had came back aboard the _Waverider._ He remembers why keeping his distance is necessary. He remembers. His jaw clenched, he crosses his arms and looks down at his worn-out boots.

“Did something happens to… me?” Miranda presses gently, her eyebrows frowned in concern. Strangely, her concern doesn’t seem to be about her future self’s fate, but about his current state. “…about Jonas?”

Rip pushes himself off the table and walks back to his study, his fists clenching and unclenching by his side, as if itching to hit – break - something. As the idea of unscrewing his hidden jug of scotch crosses his mind, he can hear Miranda walk in behind him, her footsteps loud to make sure he wouldn’t be startled. He freezes when a light hand lands on his shoulder, comforting.

“It’s alright,” she reassures, rubbing his shoulder blade, “It’s alright.”

Rip frowns and shakes his head, suddenly annoyed. There’s something strange about being comforted, reassured for something he knows to be inevitable. He feels the guilt coming back with a vengeance. He should be the one comforting her. Reassuring her, telling her that he would do everything in his power to make sure no harm would come to her and to their son. Because no, it _isn’t_ alright. But Miranda – brave, rebellious Miranda – doesn’t seem to care about his lack of consoling – or emotions, overall - and grins at him.

His anger is replaced by tiredness and a sigh escapes his mouth as he turns around to face Miranda, running a hand over his face .

“It really isn’t,” Rip mutters, his eyebrows raised to emphasize.

“No,” she huffs a small laugh, cocking her head to the side, “I guess it isn’t.” 

He shoots her a half-smile and doesn’t look away when she turns to look at him. Miranda cocks an eyebrow at him, daring him to break their stare-off. Rip mimics her expression, cheeky. He’s slightly taken aback by how easy it is to fall back and get lost into their playful routine. It doesn’t seem to surprise her and Rip supposes it shouldn’t, seeing as it only had been weeks for her.

Rip falls back into reality because of a loud clear of throat. Both of their heads turn to the doorway and are met with the sight of one Sara Lance, standing before them, her hands stuffed in her back pockets and her face unreadable, except for the slight twitch of her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, a small grimace forming on her face as her gaze darts from him and _her_ , “I didn’t mean to intrude-“

“ _No!”_ Rip interrupts, perhaps too quickly and too loudly. He clears his throat, “No, it’s fine. No need for apologies, Ms Lance.”

Sara hums, an amused smile at her lips mirroring Miranda’s, much to his apprehension. Throwing him a quick glance, the blonde turns her attention to the woman standing at his, a hand held out in a greeting.

“Hi, I’m Sara.”

“Miranda,” she counters, walking to Sara to shake her hand, “and I know who you are, Ms Lance. And let me just say, it’s quite an honour to meet you in the flesh.”

Rip almost chokes on his saliva at the sly look Miranda throws behind her shoulder. She had done it on purpose. He responds to her look with a glare. Oblivious to the silent exchange, Sara tilts her head to the side and cocks an eyebrow at him, confused.

“Likewise, I guess.”

With a soft laugh, Miranda lets go of her hand and turns back to Rip, her smile smugly satisfied. He clears her throat again and forces himself to keep his attention on Sara as he joins the two women by the holotable.

 “Was there something you needed, Sara?” Rip asks, cocking an eyebrow at the blonde, his hands deep into his pockets.

“Yeah, actually,” she nods, leaning on the table, “I was wondering when we’ll be arriving back in 2007.”

“Ah, we’ll have a couple of stops before having to drop your father back in his timeline. Gideon, estimated time of arrival to 2160, please?” 

“ _We will be docking in London, 2160, in approximately five minutes, Captain_ ,” comes the A.I’s response.

Clenching his jaw, Rip gives a small nod and turns back to Miranda, the latter already looking back at him. From the corner of his eye, he can see Sara giving them a wide berth as she makes his way to his study in silent. He recognizes at her attempt at providing them a moment of privacy and he’s really thankful for it. Miranda sighs and slowly closes the gap between them with a couple of steps, a hand held out in front of her.

“I believe that it’s time for you to give me that special, fancy pill of yours” she says, her eyebrows up and hidden behind her fringe.

“Ah. Right,” Rip breathes out. 

Ignoring the lump in his throat, he reaches out into his pocket and gets out a small bottle out of it. Popping a pill out, he goes to drop it into her outstretched hand, only for Miranda to enclose his hand between both of hers and hold them to her heart. Swallowing, he looks up for their joined hands to meet Miranda’s green gaze, his heart clenching as he notices the forming tears in his eyes. It doesn’t stop her from shooting him a small smile, her head tilted to the side.

“You take care of yourself, Rip Hunter. Alright?’ she presses, squeezing his hand.

He doesn’t trust himself to talk yet. He just gives him a nod and that seems to satisfy her. With a nod of her own, Miranda brings him closer to her and kisses his cheek, lingering for a couple more seconds that necessary. As she begins to – reluctantly – pull away, Rip pulls her back in, an arm automatically wrapping around her waist while his other goes around his neck, his fingers running through her long hair. Miranda returns the embrace without a hesitation and Rip closing his eyes, his face buried in the crook of her neck and his eyes closed. Her fruity perfume is intoxicating and for the first time since they left the Refuge, he feels at home. 

“You take care of yourself, Miranda Coburn,” he whispers, his hold around her tightening as the words leave his mouth, “ _Alright_?”

Sniffing, she nods against his shoulder.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Miranda retorts, earning a soft chuckle from Rip.

 _“Captains, I thought you’d like to know that we’ll be docking in London, 2160 in approximately less than one minute,_ ” Gideon intrudes, bringing them back to reality.

Miranda snorts at the plural use of the word _‘captain’_ and sighs as she pulls away, her hands slowly slipping off his neck. Smirking at him, she slips the pill under her tongue and begins to make her way off the bridge backward.

“Gideon, I trust you to keep an eye on that guy and his crew,” she calls, looking up. 

“ _Your trust is well placed and valued, Ms Coburn,”_ Gideon deadpans.

Rip rolls his eyes at the response – he would have to have a talk with Barry Allen about his A.I developing an attitude – while both Miranda and Sara let out a snicker.

“It was _great_ to meet you, Sara,” she calls, her smile genuine and slightly awed.

“You too,” Sara returns, going to stand beside Rip.

With one last smile and wave, Miranda turns around and disappears off the bridge. Rip tries to not think about the fact that it’s probably the last time he’ll see smiling and breathing. He looks down at Sara, the latter staring at the space where Miranda had been standing a moment ago, her expression pensive. With a small hum, she twirls back on her heels and smirks up at him.

“She’s out of your league, Hunter,” she declares, slapping his arm.

Rip doesn’t know whether to amused or offended by the comment, so he lets out a snort and gives a small nod. 

“I suppose she was,” he mutters, crossing his arms. 

Her smirk softens into a small smile and her touch is surprisingly soft when it lands on his arm, this time gentle and comforting. He blinks at her, his brow furrowed.

“She _is._ Because we’re going to save her and Jonas. And unsurprisingly, she _will_ still be out of your league,” Sara insists, her gaze unwavering and her touch grounding. 

Rip Hunter doesn’t know usually how to deal with his emotions He prefers to ignore them, burying them down within him. Which isn’t the healthiest thing to do, but again, none of his coping mechanism are, so what’s new. Rip Hunter isn’t one to usually show emotions, but it’s been a long day and he gets tired of his unhealthiest way of life.

His clogged throat makes it impossible for him to retort, so he reaches up and gently pats her hand, his mouth twisted in some kind of a smile as he gives her a appreciative nod. Her smile widening, Sara returns the nod. She gives his arm a squeeze before pulling her hands and stuffing them back in her pockets. Rip watches with a smile as she begins to skip back to her quarter, apparently satisfied with herself. He tilts his head to the side, bemused as Sara stops in mid-jump and spins back, looking at him with a frown.

“By the way,” Sara crosses her arms, her confused frown turning a suspicious scowl, “what did she means by it _being quite a honour to meet me in the flesh?_ Aren’t we supposed to be a bunch of failures?” 

Rip smirks smugly at her and actually has the nerve to wink at her, ignoring the true danger her narrowed eyes hide.

_“Spoilers.”_

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this right now, it means you're awesome and I love the living shit out of you. Thank you so much for reading this fic : please, don't forget to leave a comment and kudo, it always makes my day better. You can also come and yell about rip (my boi) on tumblr, @generaleiafisher. 
> 
> Until next time, you beautiful people.  
> Kadi.


End file.
